


Return

by minnies_musings



Category: Do No Harm (TV)
Genre: Continuation, FIx It, Memory Loss, Other, Panic Attacks, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnies_musings/pseuds/minnies_musings
Summary: 4 years after Ruben Marcado vanishes, and is presumed dead, he reappears in Philadelphia. Covered in scars and remembering very little of his life before Jamaica, Ruben struggles to make sense of a notebook filled with things he feels like he should understand that was dropped off in the middle of the night. It soon becomes a race against time and an unseen foe for Ruben to make sense of these scribbles in time to save his life.[More tags will be added as the story progresses][On hiatus]





	

There’s a click and then a clatter, and then running footsteps as he sits bolt upright in bed. He looks to the alarm clock on his bedside table, the red digits blinking out _2:48 am_. There shouldn’t be clicking and clattering and running footsteps at two in the morning. Hesitantly, he swings his legs out of the bed and pads down the hall, bare feet tapping on the cool tile. There is no more noise apart from his own breathing and quickening heartbeat.

Room by room he moves through the villa, searching for whatever had made the noises and jumping at each little creak and groan from the old building. There’s nothing out of place anywhere. The front door sits closed, but unlocked, and he can’t help the feeling of absolute dread that spreads through his veins like ice. A shiver runs down his spine even though it’s still pretty warm out, and he walks to the kitchen.

There, a single light above the sink is on. That’s normal, he always leaves it on just in case he needs something to drink in the middle of the night. What isn’t normal is the tattered brown notebook sitting on his kitchen table. He freezes at the sight of it, unable to move any closer even if he’d wanted to. He’s never seen the notebook before and yet…

And yet the thing screamed familiarity. He hesitates a moment before stepping closer, forcing himself to pick it up and run his fingers over the smooth leather cover. It takes almost all of his willpower to actually open the notebook, not sure what he was expecting when he did. It certainly wasn’t pages upon pages of notes and diagrams, some things underlined and others completely scribbled out. It’s his hand-writing, he’s sure of that but…he doesn’t remember ever writing anything in this notebook. He also has no idea what any of this means.

He continues to flip through the notebook, struggling to make sense of it when something comes loose, sticking out of one of the last pages. He frowns and flips to this page, nearly dropping the notebook in shock. Gone are the somewhat messy but legible pencil scratches, replaced by red pen.

_It’s not working Ruben._

And held in place by a paper clip, a plane ticket.

He stares at the paper and pulls it out with a shaking hand. Ruben…that’s a name he hasn’t gone by in years. He can’t even remember why he doesn’t use it anymore. It’s on his passport, all of his ID, but he refuses to go by it. There’s one place it continues to haunt him. In his nightmares, there are always two faceless voices who sound similar but are nothing alike.

One is constantly yelling, demanding things that he doesn’t know how to do. He tries to explain to the voice that he’s doing his best, but the voice keeps getting angrier and angrier, growing louder until it has drowned out his begging for more time to do…something.

The other is colder. Still demanding, yes, but with a gentle side to it. A sickly sweet purring side that makes his skin crawl every time he hears it. This voice continues to purr his name, over and over, and at first he feels safe with it. Then it grows wicked, calling him names and tearing him down, and his skin itches and burns with unseen touches. This is always the worst part of the nightmares. Because this feels real. This feels like something he’s lived through. Sickly sweet words of false comfort and burning touches. Always along the scars.

He jerks back into reality from his thoughts, not realizing he’s sunk to the ground until his back hits the wall and he can’t find the energy to push himself up. Tears run down his cheeks and he stares unseeing at the slip still clenched in his hands. The notebook lies discarded on the floor just out of reach, and for this he’s thankful. He can’t place why, but there is something incredibly unsettling about the notebook, and about the red ink scrawled across the last page. He looks to the ticket again, checking the date of the flight.

Two days.

Does he dare go? Yes he’s thought about returning to America, to see his mother and sisters again and reassure them that everything’s okay. Though…he told them he’s moved to Jamaica, and yet not once had they visited or written, or even called in the four years he’d been there. But something has kept him from picking up a phone or getting on a plane. Something has kept him from daring to try and reach out to the few people he knew back in America. Something deep in him that sends him into a panic any time he thinks of it.

And now he’s thinking about it, and he has a means, and he is terrified. He knows it’s a bad idea. There is something waiting for him. Something unseen and unnamed, and it isn’t happy. It’s been in his home, in his little sanctuary against the world, and he can still feel the seething anger that comes off of the notebook as if the paper itself is alive. He shouldn’t go back. He knows he shouldn’t go back.

And yet when he pushes himself to his feet, picking up the notebook in the process and clutching it close to his chest, he doesn’t stop. Not when his feet move him back to his room, to dig out the passport that he never thought he’d use again does he stop. Not until his bag is packed and sitting by the front door, the ticket sitting right on top does he allow himself a moment of pause.

He’s going back to America. He’s going home, and he is terrified.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I...don't really know what to say about this. I have never actually seen the full Do No Harm show, and am basing literally everything off of the LMM supercut because I am apparently trash for this man. And also I hated how they treated his character, so I figured I'd give the poor guy a bit of a better ending. Please forgive any spelling/grammatical/cannon mistakes because I am a human disaster and...yeah.


End file.
